THE MAID, THE MAFIA BOSS, AND THE DEAD WIFE'S SECRET

The silence in the dining room was thicker than the gunpowder smoke hanging in the air.

Vanessa’s silver derringer remained pointed dead center at Dominic’s chest. The two remaining guards flanked her, their rifles locked on Dominic. Paulie’s lifeless body lay in a pool of blood on the Persian rug.

“I said crawl out, Hannah!” Vanessa barked.

I swallowed the lump of sheer terror in my throat. Keeping myself between Sophie and the gun, I pushed the heavy tablecloth aside and slowly stood. I kept my hands raised. Sophie clung to my leg, burying her face in the fabric of my apron, trembling violently.

Dominic’s eyes darted to me, then to his daughter. The anguish in his expression nearly broke my heart. The ruthless mob boss was utterly helpless, trapped by the woman he had almost married.

“Leave them out of this, Vanessa,” Dominic said, his voice surprisingly calm. It was a dangerous, coiled calm. “You won. You killed Paulie. You took my empire. Let Hannah take Sophie and walk out the front door. They’re nothing to you.”

Vanessa let out a sharp, ugly laugh. “Nothing to me? Oh, Dominic, you have no idea how deep this goes.” She waved the barrel of the gun at me. “Hannah. The winter coat. My suite. Bring it down here. Now.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Why a coat?”

Vanessa’s smile didn't reach her eyes. “Because we have a flight to catch, my dear. And the weather in Switzerland is quite chilly this time of year.”

“Do what she says, Hannah,” Dominic commanded softly. He was trying to buy time.

I nodded slowly. I gently pried Sophie’s fingers from my apron. “Stay with your daddy, sweetheart. Close your eyes.”

I turned and walked toward the grand staircase. My legs felt like lead. As I climbed the sweeping mahogany stairs, my mind raced. Why was Vanessa risking everything to make a maid fetch a coat? She had armed guards. She could have sent one of them. She could have fetched it herself.

Unless the coat wasn't just a garment.

I reached the second floor and sprinted down the long, carpeted hallway to Vanessa’s master suite. I threw open the double doors. Her closet was the size of a small apartment, lined with designer dresses and shoes. I frantically pushed past the silk and chiffon until I found it in the back.

A heavy, dark navy wool coat.

I pulled it off the hanger. It was absurdly heavy. Much heavier than wool should be. I dropped to my knees and ran my hands along the thick hem at the bottom.

The stitching was mismatched. It had been opened and hastily sewn shut again.

I dug my nails into the thread, tearing the seam open. My breath hitched in my throat as I reached inside the lining and pulled out the hidden contents.

It wasn't money. It wasn't diamonds.

It was a bundle of four small, black, leather-bound ledgers.

I opened the first one. My eyes scanned the handwritten columns of numbers, dates, and account codes. At the top of every page was the crest of the Caruso family syndicate. These were the master ledgers of Dominic’s entire criminal enterprise. The offshore accounts. The shell companies. The untraceable billions.

But as I looked closer at the handwriting, my blood ran cold.

I knew this handwriting. I had grown up looking at it on birthday cards and grocery lists.

It was my father’s handwriting.

My father, Arthur Collins, had been a humble accountant for a logistics firm. He had died of a sudden heart attack two years ago, leaving me with massive medical debt, which forced me to take this high-paying job as a live-in maid.

Or so I had thought.

Vanessa hadn't just hired me by coincidence.

I shoved the ledgers deep into the pockets of my apron and grabbed the empty coat. I ran back downstairs, my mind reeling with the horrific truth. My father hadn't died of a heart attack. He had been murdered. And he had been working for the mob.

When I returned to the dining room, the tension had thickened. Dominic was still staring down the barrel of Vanessa’s gun, holding a weeping Sophie behind his leg.

I threw the coat onto the floor at Vanessa’s feet.

“It’s empty, Vanessa,” I said, my voice eerily steady.

Vanessa’s eyes snapped down to the coat, then darted up to my face. The arrogant smirk melted off her face, replaced by genuine, panicked fury.

“Where are they?” she hissed, stepping toward me. “Where are the books, you little rat?!”

“Why don't you tell Dominic why you need them?” I challenged, pulling one of the black ledgers from my apron pocket and holding it up.

Dominic’s eyes widened. “The master accounts. Paulie told me those were destroyed in a fire three years ago.”

“Paulie was an idiot,” Vanessa spat. She kept her gun trained on Dominic but glared at me. “He thought we were just stealing a million here and there. But your father, Hannah, he was a genius. Arthur Collins built the most beautiful maze of offshore accounts this syndicate has ever seen. Nobody could untangle it. Nobody could access the billions... except him.”

“And you killed him for it,” I choked out, tears finally spilling down my cheeks.

“He refused to give me the final master passcode!” Vanessa screamed, losing her composure. “I poisoned his coffee, and the stubborn old fool died before he could write it down! The accounts automatically locked. Four billion dollars, sitting in Switzerland, untouchable!”

“So you hired his daughter,” Dominic realized, his voice filled with disgust. “You brought Hannah into my house.”

“I thought the old man might have left the passcode with her!” Vanessa yelled. “I searched her room. I watched her for two years! But she knew nothing. Until today.”

Vanessa pointed the gun directly at my face.

“You’re going to give me the passcode, Hannah.”

“I don't know it!” I cried. “I didn't even know my father worked for the mob!”

“Lie!” Vanessa shrieked. “Isabella knew! That’s why Isabella hid the recipe card! The cake!”

My heart stopped.

I looked at the table. The birthday cake I had baked for Sophie still sat there. Next to it was the recipe card I had found in the old kitchen notebook.

For my little strawberry moon. Always.

“Isabella found your father’s notebook before she died,” Vanessa sneered. “She knew I was looking for it. She disguised it as a recipe book. And that final note… it’s an anagram. A cipher. Give me the card, Hannah!”

Before I could move, Dominic did something completely unexpected.

He didn't reach for the gun. He reached for the heavy silver candelabra on the table. With a brutal swipe of his arm, he smashed it directly into the wall-mounted breaker box hidden behind the dining room curtains.

Sparks showered the room.